


Innocently Yours

by Azaraethe



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Erotica, Guilty Pleasures, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaraethe/pseuds/Azaraethe
Summary: Vane was tasked to patrol the red-light districts of the east of Feendrache, with two of his knights to track down a rogue syndicate attempting to swindle the brothels and kidnap the courtesans. He was separated from his two knights while chasing down one of the criminals and found himself within the confines of the most lavish brothel in Feendrache.
Relationships: Vane and His Hands
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	Innocently Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Astheryon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astheryon/gifts).



> Lovingly dedicated to Asth whose darkly delicious art brings to mind, a riot of debauched desires and temptations.

Vane sagged against the wooden beam, his hand tight within the confines of fabric, his fingers curled in an apprehensive pause over his hard cock. He sucked in a breath, the groan caught guttural and deep in his throat.

From behind him, he could hear distinctively, the hungry sounds of another, and yet another and another. 

Through the closed lattice doors

Screams of earnest lust crashing, lifting, coalescing into wails of desire.

Down the shadowed corridor, he could hear. 

Someone cried, the promise of sex plump and possessive in their heated moans. 

The blond knight closed his eyes, his head lowering, defeated. His tongue skimmed his lower lip as he panted. His fingers rolled unconsciously around his erection.

Pumping, pulling, flexing the tip of his thumb against the swollen, wet crown of his cock. 

Goaded by the surging tides of carnality around him.

»»————- ➴ ————-««

Vane was given the strangest mission ever. 

It was the first time he found himself in the infamous courtesan quarter of Feendrache. The two knights who were with him seemed to know the area well. More than once, they had silently directed their Vice-Captain to avoid certain turns and alleyways as they patrolled down one of the streets. The three White Dragon knights were not dressed in their formal armor and each wore attire that spoke of a particular expense, a certain status. 

Clothes that reeked of audacious charm and excess money. Clothes that blended them into the sultry night.

Vane had protested vehemently when Lancelot ordered him to take on the mission. The darker side of Feendrache seldom reached out to those who maintained order and law in the kingdom and this particular request for aid came from one of the reigning madames of Feendrache’s underworld. Lancelot explained and he did look quite disturbed. A syndicate of rogues had revolted and were abusing magic circles to portal into brothels and steal from the wealthiest establishments. 

“But Lan-chan,” Vane remembered himself quarreling with his Captain over the issue. “Do I need to go under-cover to do this? We can just bring in the knights and question everyone.”

Lancelot had shaken his head adamantly for the third time. 

“Yes, you are going under-cover, and no, we are not bringing all the knights.”

Lancelot had refused to tell him why.

The quarter was designed to be a perfect square. Walled away from the rest of the kingdom, who rarely ventured into this twisted territory. Giant yellow lanterns lit each street and lane, gilding each cobblestone in muddied gold. Every brothel was built in the same facade and design as the next one - decorative hexagons painted on their walls in royal red or deep crimson. There seemed to be no door at the front of each building and no clear way of entry. The only thing that differentiated each establishment was the intriguing knots of silk and hemp rope tied around the stone pillars at their entrances. 

Vane was curious, but he hesitated to ask his men about the knotted ropes. He had attempted to talk to them as they strolled down the main street, but it was short-lived. The two men selected to be on this mission with him were poor conversationalists. They continued to move in silence, mingling as naturally as they would or could amongst the sparse crowd in the street. The two knights walking a distance before him were dressed like he was - in fine silk shirts, tailored slacks, and polished shoes. One of them smiled wistfully to himself as the three of them passed by a few establishments. The other looked a little angry, a little frustrated. 

Suddenly, one of them stopped, his hand lifting in a wary gesture. 

“Vice-Captain,” The knight’s voice was low, urgent and he stepped away from the street, “There’s something strange going on up there.”

The man’s hand lifted, gesturing to tiny firework bursts of violet slipping out from the closed windows from the second floor of a brothel. It was so faint and hazy against the light-doused sky that no one would have noticed it. Unless they were searching for magic portals.

“Back-door,” Vane directed, feeling a bit more confident now that they were being productive rather than just strolling aimlessly. The blond knight moved forwards, stepping onto a flight of stairs leading up the brothel where they had discovered the violet sparks. The knights followed a short distance, though each of them now looked unsurely at each other. 

“Vice-Captain?” One of them jogged up and hissed under his breath.

“Huh? Why are you not moving?” He turned to glance at his two subordinates.

One of them tried to stifle a laugh.

“The back door’s the other way.”

Vane’s face flushed scarlet. He lingered on the stairs momentarily and then let out a hasty laugh. The two knights laughed nervously as well, and then their mouths clamped shut, and their eyes widened abruptly in surprise.

“What?” Vane felt his skin prickle uneasily. 

“Vice-Captain, he’s behind you!”

His two subordinates had already dashed past him, picking up their pace as they chased a dark-cloaked tall figure down the verandah of the brothel. Tell-tale wisps of violet fled from the edges of the person’s cloak and robe. Vane slapped a hand to his forehead and clenched his teeth. He turned immediately and followed, trying to pick up his pace to catch up to the two knights.

»»————- ➴ ————-««

He had lost them.

Both his knights and that rogue.

Caught in a maze of small corridors and tightly shut rooms, Vane felt disoriented. He had found a set of stairs, heavily decorated with swaths of red and gold cloth, and stomped up, thinking perhaps this was the _correct_ second floor of _that_ building. He rested the back of his hand against his perspiring forehead, drawing deep quick breaths as he pulled himself up the last step of stairs. 

Facing Vane was a long corridor, dimly lit with small red lanterns. Hexagonal lattices painted in the same red ran down the walls of this corridor, as far as his eyes could see. There appeared to be no exits nor entrances. He pressed his hand on the left wall, flattening his palm against it.

What he thought was solid, was not. 

The wall creaked softly and it shook on silent hinges slightly. A tiny vertical gap appeared on the wall.

Warm golden light spilled out.

Chased by a gentle, languid moan.

And the twisting, scraping sounds of garments becoming undone.

The quiet murmuring of voices encouraging each other in lewd suggestions made the blond knight pause. His heart started to thump, and his mouth grew pasty. Vane took a short step back, angling his heel against the second step of the stairs and slowly sank himself into the mottled shadows.

His cheeks burned, the heat welling up from his throat to his jawline. He could leave. But Vane believed he should not abandon his mission and that perhaps, the room with the magic portal was right at the end of this particular corridor. He had to find out and make sure every possibility was investigated.

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, Vane attempted to move as stealthily as he could, past the door he had accidentally opened. 

The lurid moans strengthened as he went nearer, and the low, wet slap of flesh against flesh resounded in his ears as he crept past the door. He was sure that the occupants inside were distracted sufficiently not to notice his shadow slipping to join their writhing ones on the room’s carpeted floor. The heat in his cheeks blistered, and the unappreciated tightening in his groin hampered his movements.

_It was a mistake to venture forward._

Vane managed to haul himself to the middle of the corridor, discovering a dimly-lit cross-junction. Every nerve in his body crackled. Sweat beaded at his temples. He shivered, slipping himself within the tiny alcove and plastered the expanse of his heaving back against the cold wooden panels as he sank down onto the floor.

He strained against himself as he caught his breath, the bulge under the too-tight buttoned placket of his slacks straining against his inner thigh.

It felt hot.

_Too hot._

And tight. 

He panted again, his breath staccato-like against his lips.

There was a slim sliver of light that splayed through a slit between the panels in front of him. That thin stream of light wavered as multiple forms crossed it, mottling the light ray into a flickering play of brightness and darkness. Vane was in a daze as he sat on the ground with his knees drawn up. He stared at the strip of light, the shock of sexual haze twisting about his mind like the slithering body of a serpent.

It was an alien sensation, and it coated him with heat. It was beyond that bland comfort he had given himself infrequently in the knights’ shower room or that quick few minutes of relief within the confines of his own bed.

Vane swallowed roughly. 

His hand tore at the front of his slacks. Urgently, his fingers pinched the buttons of the confining placket away from their buttonholes. He was sweating profusely and in a single motion, he stripped off that distasteful silk nobleman’s shirt that constrained his large body.

Bucking now against his own hand, Vane’s fingers pillowed the crown of his cock and he closed his eyes in a moaning respite.

It was confusing to him that his skin would feel immensely good against his _skin_. His other hand pushed down his pants, his legs now freed and widened. 

Vane bucked up, his spine arching, his hands forming a cramped cradle around his cock. He found himself blushing, but he could not see - the flags of red and claret rippling paths of heat down his neck, to his chest and stomach.

He sucked in a deep breath, afraid to continue. Perhaps he would just hold himself here until the sensations pass or when his mind regained a semblance of sensibility.

_“No.”_

_“Touch yourself.”_

_“I want to see your fingers around that pretty cock of yours.”_

Vane’s eyes flew open, and his mouth hung slack. His gaze riveted upon the break in the paneling before him, staring at that gleaming strip of light.

_“Touch yourself.”_

Lewd and suggestive, the soft low voice cajoled him. The sliver of light danced and wavered. The knight swore he saw fingers tap and stroke the gap, freckling the light with motes of darkness.

He shivered as his hands tightened around his erection, unconsciously motivated by the potent persuasion. He gripped and pulled, his fingers spreading dampness from his cock’s swelling glans down the blood-rushed length to his balls. His motions grew faster, the fleshy mounds of his palms rolling up and down his foreskin.

His thighs twitched, the lengths of hardened muscles clamping and shuddering. His balls throbbed, he could not concentrate and his hands moved even faster, fisting, jerking and pulling again.

_“Stop.”_

Vane gritted his teeth, letting out an unwilling growl. Then, he clamped his mouth, shocked at the sounds he had made. Leaning forward, he stared in confusion at the lighted gap.

“No.”

_“No?”_

The voice grew husky, delighted and distinctively male. The light vanished, leaving the alcove in complete, absolute darkness.

_“Then, I want your hands around your pretty cock.”_

The blond knight closed his eyes, his head lowering. He gasped as the voice pleasured his ears and motivated his pumping hands. His tongue slipped from his parted lips, the plump tip licking his lower lip, drenching a corner of his mouth in wetness. His nerves felt as if they were shot with lightning. The slightest waft of breath from his gasping lips further hardened him beyond any sense.

Vane bent himself forward, festooning his hands vice-like around himself, the reddened head of his erection pushed against the knotted muscles of his abdomen. 

_“Faster, faster.”_

The voice chanted, invitingly temptingly. 

His hands rutted his cock savagely, like an animal in heat. 

His hips rose and fell violently, and his heart thumped. Sweat dripped from his skin. His thighs clenched and he felt an arousing swell and tightening of his balls.

_“Faster, faster.”_

Vane made a strange sound, unbecoming, shameful, quite unlike him and his lusty moan echoed off the walls of the alcove. He must have heard himself cry out and his hands stopped fisting about his cock.

His balls felt so acutely aroused that it bordered on pain. His head pounded. Something sparkled at the corners of his eyes.

The need to release, to spill himself all over his hands and then attempt to erase this ruttish encounter from his mind was so desirable right now.

_“Are you getting close?”_

_“You sounded so sweet.”_

_“Come all over yourself.”_

The voice teased, luscious and lustful.

The extended arousal, with its prolonged pain and his _very hard_ cock, made Vane’s head spin. He gave up trying to stifle his cries, moaning shamefacedly in the darkness as his hands started fisting his cock again, urging himself to the release he craved so badly. He doubled over as pleasure ripped up from his balls. 

_“Come all over yourself.”_

_“Come now.”_

He bent himself over, his arms shuddering as his hands brought his cock to a spasming release, semen slicking warmly between his quivering fingers, coating his foreskin. It was thick and it was sticky. Vane groaned, flinging himself back against the wall, his hands falling away from his semi-hard cock, wet drops of semen rolling down his fingers onto the floor. 

He knew his face must be entirely red, even in the darkness - for his skin burned with both the afterglow of release and a merciless mortification.

_“Well-done.”_

The voice cooed and comforted.

_“Well-done, my beautiful knight.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of always had in mind to write something about Feendrache's sordid side. A kingdom should have its share of hedonism and debauchery, no? Vane would be the first to sample the kingdom's interesting nightlife and our good boy is unable to contain his curiosity about the hedonistic world that breathes and blooms beneath a pristine Feendrache.


End file.
